


Good Fortune 11

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Series: Good Fortune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Simon work out some of their problems.<br/>This story is a sequel to Good Fortune 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Fortune 11

## Good Fortune 11

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: Jim and Simon work out some of their problems. 

Notes: Thanks to Jenn aka XFreak for all her support. 

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and Jimangst for those who enjoy that sort of diet. 

* * *

Good Fortune 11  
by Grey 

"How's Sandburg?" 

Jim stopped at his desk and met concerned brown eyes. "Hey, H. He's doing better. Rafe's with him." 

"Yeah, I know. I've got the next shift at midnight." 

Smiling, Jim nodded. "I appreciate it. I don't want him alone while he's in there." 

"I can give him some of my dating tips while I'm at it." 

"Yeah, you do that. Any news on Thompson?" 

Brown's grin faded. "Nothing good. Man's disappeared and nobody's happy. The brass is working like crazy to keep it under wraps, but you know as soon as this shit hits the press, it's going to get worse. Vice Cop Kills Gay Lover, news at eleven. It ain't goin' to be pretty." Pausing and shaking his head, Brown added, "Never knew the man was queer. Go figure." 

Jim snapped, his words sharper than he intended. "I don't give a fuck who he slept with, just who he killed." 

"Well, yeah, I just meant I was surprised, that's all. I met Thompson and he just didn't seem gay." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"Come on, Jim. Lighten up. I didn't mean anything. I'm on your side." 

Startled at his own anger, Jim shuddered and pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking. "I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge here." 

"No problem. It's been a rough few days. I'm just glad Sandburg's going to be okay." 

"Yeah, me, too." 

Brown patted him on the shoulder and headed back to his desk just as Simon opened the door to his office. "Ellison, I need to see you." Jim recognized the worried tone, but kept quiet while he walked in and sat on the edge of the desk. Simon cleared his throat, closing the door before he finally spoke. "Jim, we've got trouble." 

"So what else is new? What is it?" 

Settling down behind his desk, Simon opened up a folder and met Jim's gaze. "I just got the report back on your mandatory. Frick isn't happy. Says your stress levels are at dangerous levels and you're on the verge of a possible burn out. He's recommending desk duty or administrative leave until further evaluation is completed." 

"That's bullshit." 

"Is it?" 

Stunned at Simon's question, his unbearably reasonable tone, Jim stood up. "What the fuck is this? You know what's been going on in the last few days. Of course, I'm stressed, but I can do my damn job." 

"I'm not saying you can't." 

"Frick is. He's an asshole. I never liked him." 

"Jim, listen..." 

"No, you listen. I need to find Thompson and get this whole mess sorted out. If Frick thinks I'm stressed now, being chained to a desk would only make it worse. You _know_ that." His muscles still tight, he steadied his voice as he braced himself forward on the desk. "You know me, Simon. Trying to keep me off this case would be the worst thing you could do." 

The older man leaned back, his face grim as he took a deep breath. "I don't know, Jim. He makes some good points about you taking some downtime. He's pretty damn specific." 

"Simon, please. I need to finish this case." 

"If I agree, there have to be conditions." 

Suspicious, Jim stood up and glared. "What kind of conditions?" 

"You'd see Frick for the other two sessions and more if he recommends more." 

"Come on, Simon, give me a break here." 

The captain held up a restraining hand. "And you'll take some time off just as soon as the case is finished if Frick still thinks you should." 

"I don't need any time off." 

"That's the deal, Jim. Take it or leave it." 

Reluctantly, Jim stood up and turned away, his arms crossed tightly around his chest as he stared out the window. "I hate this." 

"I know you do, but you'll do it, right?" 

"Frick doesn't have a clue about what's going on." 

"He may know more than you think, Jim. Don't get me wrong, you're putting on a hell of a front, but a good observer can see how tense you are. You feel guilty about what happened to Blair, I get that, but you and I both know there are other factors. I don't suppose you mentioned them to Frick, did you?" 

Jim snorted, amused at the irony of the question and the source. "What? You think I'm going to get us both fired? I tell him about you and Blair and we're all finished." 

"Not necessarily. Still, it's an added strain. I'm sorry." 

Pausing, Jim moved back to the edge of the desk, his voice more controlled. "Don't be. I'm not." 

"Seemed like it this afternoon." 

"I know. You just surprised me, that's all. I'm not used to thinking about you like that yet." He danced his fingertips on the flat plane of the wood and avoided meeting Simon's eyes. "We've been friends a long time, Simon. I don't want to lose that." 

"You won't." 

"It's just I've always seen you one way and now you're something even more, something I wasn't expecting." 

Simon sighed and closed the file. "It's been a big adjustment for me, too, Jim. Now, answer the question. Are you going to go along with the deal or not?" 

"If I have to, yeah." Jim clenched his jaw after he answered, wanting to take it back, wishing the fear never existed. So many secrets battled in his head at the same time, he just needed it to be quiet. Talking about it just made it all louder, harder to handle. 

Simon studied him a few extra moments and then nodded in satisfaction as he stood up. "I'll tell you what, let's go get dinner. We can stop by to see Blair and then go to your place to talk about all this later." 

"What about the case?" 

"The case will wait. Thompson didn't get to be captain without knowing how to block an investigation. We'll start fresh again tomorrow. Hopefully we'll find at least one person who might have a clue where he is." 

"We've got the IA meetings about the shooting tomorrow." 

"And you've got another mandatory with Frick. In between all that, let's hope we can get Blair out of the hospital and home. That's the most important thing." 

"Let's go see Blair first, Simon. I just need to see him." 

Patting Jim on the back, the older man smiled in understanding. "You've got it as bad as I do." 

Jim didn't bother to answer. A good cop knows the truth when he hears it, especially when it's coming from his own heart. 

* * *

Jim hung up his coat and stepped to the refrigerator. His thirst wouldn't wait any longer. "Want a beer?" 

"No, thanks. Got any decaf?" 

"Sure." Retrieving a bottle, Jim twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, the liquid a godsend to his parched throat. He drank a couple more sips and then reached for the filters. He busied himself while Simon leaned against the supporting post at the end of the counter. "Blair looked a lot better tonight. More color." 

"I'm glad the doctor took the catheter out. Had me worried." 

"Me, too. His balance is still off, but he's better, that's the main thing." Flipping the switch to the coffee machine, Jim reached over and grabbed his bottle. He finished it quickly, tossed it, and got another one. Simon remained silent, watching him, his face more serious. "What?" 

"Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine. You don't have to keep asking." 

"I'm just worried. You hardly talked at dinner or the hospital." 

Jim sipped the beer and then walked past Simon to the living room. Staring out the window, he spoke quietly. "I love Blair." 

"I know that." 

"But I love you, too." 

"Do you?" 

Jim turned at the question and the tone, the uncertainty like a knife against his throat. "Yes, Simon, I do, and that's the problem." 

"I don't understand." 

Jim sighed, stroking the cool mouth of the bottle against his cheek, the wet edge soothing. He took a deep breath and put the beer on the table as he tried to muster the words huddled in his head. "I've never loved more than one person at a time, not like this." 

"And you think I have?" Simon stepped closer, but kept some space between them. 

"It's confusing. When I love someone, it's like I focus just on that one person. Now, there are two of you. When I'm with you, I feel guilty for not being with Blair. When I'm with Blair, we talk about you. It's making me crazy." 

"There's no reason to feel guilty. Blair loves us both. We can share that. It's a gift, not a punishment." 

"I know that. Intellectually I know that, but emotionally, I'm still worried." 

Puzzled, Simon inched closer, his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Worried about what?" 

The words clogged his throat, stubborn and too swollen to move. He blinked away the blurred vision as he pushed hard to say what he feared the most. "That it won't be enough. I won't be enough. I won't be able to please you both and then I'll be alone again." 

Strong arms pulled him to a broad chest, a wide palm cupping the back of his head. "Jesus, Jim, you're shaking." He relaxed to the hushed shush and rumble of his lover's breathing. Simon kissed the top of his head. "It's going to be fine. Let's go upstairs and get some rest." 

Lifting his head, Jim met ebony eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to rest, Simon. I want you." He ran the back of his hand up the side of his cheek and ground his hips forward against Simon's growing erection. "And you want me." 

"No doubt there." 

Leaning in, Jim's lips pressed to Simon's, his tongue probing in, the sweet aftertaste of dinner's wine rushing up. His whole body surged with energy, the weight of doubt lifted. Pulling back, he whispered, "Upstairs." 

"I'm right behind you." 

"That's what I'm hoping." 

* * *

Cock play. 

God, how he loved it. 

Jim lay back, the urgency gone as he toyed with his lover's spent cock. Dark silky flesh warmed his palm, the thick smoky scent relaxing and sweet to his senses. The brush of springy hair tickled the edge of his hand as he stroked and petted the delicious cock of the man who gave him such pleasure. The soft groan inspired him to find his voice. "You liked that?" 

"Jesus, yes." Simon's large palm stilled his hand at his lover's crotch, his voice still raspy from wild cries. "The question is, did you?" 

Smiling, Jim met concerned eyes, his whole body lazy, but his mood teasing as his ass ached from the fine memory of Simon thrusting deep inside him. "You couldn't tell?" 

Simon scooted a little higher on the pillow and cupped Jim's face, his words softer, almost pleading. "Tell me." 

"I loved it. I love you." He rubbed his face harder against Simon's palm and then wrapped the larger man in a hug. "You were perfect. Careful, but not too careful." Snuggled there, Jim closed his eyes, his body still buzzing with the wonderful post-lovemaking burn. "Thank you." 

"I think that's my line." 

"We'll share it." 

After a few moments of silence, Simon confessed, "I've never done that before." 

Startled, Jim sat up enough to see his lover's face. "Not even with Blair?" 

"No. We hadn't gotten that far. We were both a little afraid to go there." 

Jim smiled and then nodded as he settled back down with an almost smug satisfaction. "Good." 

"Good?" 

"I like being your first." 

The low laughter pleased him. "You do, huh?" 

"Yeah. Want to go for seconds?" 

Simon drew him up to kiss him, his lips still swollen, his beard rough heat against Jim's mouth. Pulling away, the older man shook his head as he grinned. "I need a rain check." 

Smirking, Jim reached down between them and wrapped Simon's cock with his eager fingers, the twitching revealing a straining revival. "There's still some life here, Simon. Be a shame to waste it." 

Head falling back, Simon moaned as Jim licked his neck, nibbling along the corded muscles, his hand busy as the shaft swelled fire against his palm. His own cock woke up and paid attention, the pressure building between his legs, his thighs still sweaty and slick from earlier. Stretching out, he rubbed against Simon, the throbbing more persistent as he rolled up and over. Erections lined up, he rocked gently, his mouth busy as he suckled hard nipples, first one, then the other. Simon's hands explored his back, but then slid down to capture his ass, to knead the flesh, to spread his cheeks and sneak in a thick finger. 

Rising up, he bucked several times as Simon stroked inside his ass, moving in and out. His own whimpers grew louder, the winding tension up his backside and balls pure flame, the rush of release taking over too quickly. Eyes squeezed shut, bright sparkles blinded him as he shook, the spasms riding through every nerve. Wildfire whipped through his gut as the coming shattered his spine, the bones cinder and ash. Air didn't matter. 

Slumping down in exhaustion, he shuddered out of control as Simon's strong arms held him, his full lips kissing his face, his deep voice a sweet song in the distance. 

Time passed and cool air met his lungs slowly. His lover's steady hands guided him to his back and then caressed his face. No more words were spoken as Simon lay beside him and rested his head on Jim's chest. Nestled there, holding Simon in his arms, Jim closed his eyes and prayed that Blair would soon join them, that life would be as he now knew it should be. 

* * *

Simon rolled over, his arm closing on empty space and a pillow. Lifting his head, still groggy, he muttered, "Jim?" 

"Down here." 

The scent of fresh coffee drifted up and he took several long breaths to clear his thinking. Still naked, he sat up and swung his legs to the side. He glanced wearily at the bedside clock and noted the time at only six thirty. Gathering up his boxers, he pulled them on and grabbed Jim's robe draped across the nearby chair. Heading downstairs, he tilted his head as he spied the edge of his lover's shoulder through the doors to Blair's room. "What's going on?" 

"He needs clean clothes." 

Relieved, Simon stepped into the doorway and smiled. "Yeah, me, too." 

Holding one of Blair's sweaters in front of himself, Jim shook his head in amusement. "Don't think it'll fit." He folded it and put it in the bag on the bed and turned back to grab some boxers and socks. "Why don't you get his brown shoes out of the closet?" 

Simon followed instructions and then sagged down on the end of the bed, noting Jim's clean condition. Freshly shaved, he wore gray slacks and T-shirt with a dark green cable-knit sweater. "You clean up nice, Ellison." 

Jim stopped packing and looked up, his face suddenly flushed. "Thanks." He hesitated and then moved closer to Simon. Reaching out, he took his lover's hand, their fingers interlaced together as he sat down. Leaning in, he kissed his cheek and then aimed better, his mouth meeting with Simon's. Pulling back, he whispered, "Good morning." 

Simon studied the icy blue eyes as they met his, shocked by the intensity of the unguarded gaze. "Good morning to you, too." Gliding his thumb along Jim's chin he kissed him again briefly before standing. "I need to clean up. This is bound to be hard on your senses." 

"It's fine, Simon. You smell like the best of both of us." 

Heat rushed his skin as he remembered the night before, the crush of Jim's weight, his surrender to his touch, his delicious presence. Using both hands, he held Jim's face steady as his lips pressed over his, his pledge moaned like breathing. "I love you." 

"I love you, too, Simon." Pulling away slowly, Jim stood up, his face more serious as he zipped up the bag. "I've got some fresh underwear you can wear. We can stop by your place so you can change and then we can go by Durham's." 

"Durham's? Why?" 

"I want to get a new coat for Blair." 

Realization hit, remembering the ruined leather jacket Mansfield wore when he died. "Only if you let me pay half." 

"I'm the one who shot the son of a bitch." 

"Only because you didn't give me the chance to do it first." 

Their eyes met and Jim nodded, his face still grim from the memory. "Get a shower and I'll fix us some breakfast. Eggs okay?" 

"Served up with plenty of toast and hot coffee and you've got a deal." 

Talking over his shoulder, Jim walked into the kitchen. "I've got a leftover pot of decaf I can throw in if we run out." 

"And you would, too. There's thrifty and then there's just plain stingy, Jim." 

Grinning, Jim pulled out a skillet and plopped it on the stove. "Don't worry, Simon. Don't listen to Sandburg. I'm not that bad." 

"I've known you for a lot longer than he has. He's not telling lies." It took an extra second for Simon to crack a smile and laugh. "Still, it's good to know someone in the family has a good head for money." 

Jim smirked and leaned back against the counter. "Well, considering Blair's got almost no money at the moment, between you and me, we should just about be able to make ends meet." 

Simon edged closer to the end of the counter, leaning forward on his elbows. "Do you realize what we're talking about, Jim?" 

"Yeah, I do. We could save a lot more if you'd move in here." 

The words stunned him, their meaning like the power of slamming into Jim's body the night before. Swallowing back the desire to say yes, he shook his head as reason settled. "You know I'd like nothing better, but we both know I can't do that, not with Daryl, and not with us working together. We're walking a fine line as it is." 

Jim shook his head in disappointment, his arms crossed again, his face shadowed. "We tripped over that fine line a few nights ago, Simon. There's no turning back." He took several calming breaths before he continued. "I do understand, but I sure as hell don't have to like it." 

"I don't like it, either, but for now we have to live with it. I mean, fuck the job. It would be rough, but we'd both handle it or find something else to do." He swallowed back the pain before he could find the words to his worse fear. "But I couldn't handle losing Daryl and I would. I've got no doubt Joan would see to that." 

"She'd do that?" 

"Oh, yeah. Joan hates letting me see him now." 

Puzzled, Jim stepped closer, his face solemn. "I don't understand. You're a great father." 

"A father who lets his son get taken hostage and almost killed twice. Between Kincaid and Peru, Joan would love it if Daryl never saw me again. This would be the last straw. She'd take him away for sure if she even had a hint I was sleeping with not just one man, but two. Shit. I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but it's true. The courts and the press would eat me alive." 

A hand rubbed his shoulder and Simon met his lover's sad gaze. "I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't even think about all that." 

"I know. And in a perfect world, neither of us would have to think like that." He clasped Jim's hand and held it briefly before drawing to his lips and kissing the palm. 

Jim relaxed and leaned his forehead against Simon's as he whispered, "It'll work out, Simon. I won't let you lose your son. We just have to be careful." 

Simon closed his eyes, his future stretched out in front of him, his life with Jim and Blair on one side and Daryl and his career on the other. Torn down the middle, his gut knotted at the need to bring both worlds together, his heart breaking knowing full well that might never happen. 

The End 


End file.
